Outside Looking In
by Asidian
Summary: Certain that he has a fail proof formula, Watari makes Hisoka a potion to dampen his empathy around crowds. And it would have worked. But... no one counted on Tsuzuki helping himself to the rest. Complete! Yaoi. Tsu x Hi. Sap.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: I took a vacation for a bit, which means that I have done Absolutely Nothing Productive. While I was gone, though, this started to stew in my mind, just kind of asking to be written. And every now and then, I'd think of something to add, and tuck it away. Then, tonight, the whole first scene filtered in, bits and pieces at a time, and I decided that I should get started before I forgot.   
  
Sooo. This first part is kind of odd, even though the fic was meant to be more serious, as a whole. Dunno if it'll get there, but I want to stick pretty closely with my original idea.   
  
Uhm, when Hisoka mentions getting sick, I'm using the manga as a reference. In the King of Swords arc, he gets sick from being around too many people for too long. I'm only assuming that's what always happens.  
  
Questions, comments, hate mail always appreciated. ^_^ -Extra- points for anyone who can help me with a chapter title.  
  
Warnings? Yaoi. Possibly angst, later on. Uhm, Watari's failed experiments. Think that's all.  
  
===============  
Outside Looking In  
===============  
Chapter 1  
===============  
  
  
"Tadaa!" exclaimed a heavily accented voice, with entirely too much cheer.  
  
Hisoka lifted his eyes from the small pile of paperwork on his desk with an expression half curiosity, half trepidation. For some reason, it didn't surprise the boy when he found himself eye to eye with a grinning blonde scientist, complete with hovering owl and beaker on a small silver platter. The liquid in said beaker, the young shinigami was disturbed to note, had reached a suspicious shade of mauve.  
  
"Already?" he asked distractedly, filling in a few more blanks on the current form with short, neat pen strokes.   
  
"Yup!" Watari removed the beaker from the platter to set it carefully on the edge of the desk, beaming pride. "I told you, bon, it's a simple formula! Fail proof -and- quick!"  
  
"Fail proof?" The boy turned wide green eyes to regard the potion mistrustfully; the color was horrifically unnatural. And it was still fizzing. "Will it -work-?"  
  
"Absolutely!" Settling himself on the desk beside the beaker, the scientist made himself comfortable. "Drink up-- that way, we can work out any glitches before the party."  
  
Hisoka, who had been reaching for the beaker, froze in mid-motion. "What happened to fail proof?"  
  
"Oh! No, no! Not like that!" Raising both hands as though to ward away the boy's death glare, Watari gave a nervous little laugh. "What I meant is that I might need to change the amounts on some of the chemicals-- it should work differently, depending on how many people you're around."  
  
"Oh." The boy's eyes trailed from the grinning blonde, to his owl, to the formula. Slowly, he picked up the glass beaker. "And I won't get sick?"  
  
"It should get rid of everything caused by your empathy. So unless it's just nerves..." the taller man shrugged.  
  
Lifting the container to his lips, Hisoka took an experimental sip. And grimaced. "It's sweet," he announced, accusingly.  
  
The scientist covered a chuckle with a cough. "I added sugar," he admitted. "It smelled pretty bad."  
  
Annoyed green eyes fixed him with a hard look. "How -much- sugar?"  
  
Absently, Watari reached long fingers to scratch 003 under the chin. "I might have gone a little overboard," he admitted.  
  
"A little?" The boy snorted, but took another small sip in spite of the words. "It's like something Tsuzuki would drink."  
  
"Something I would drink?" came a hopeful voice from over his shoulder, accompanied by the wild thrashing of a puppy tail.  
  
"Idiot," Hisoka accused calmly, not at all startled by his partner's sudden approach. "Not unless you want to try Watari-san's newest concoction."  
  
"Speaking of which," the scientist prompted, smiling happily. "Feeling anything yet, bon?"  
  
"Uhm." The boy concentrated briefly, searching for the telltale signs of others' emotions. "That you'd hoped for a flashier result."  
  
"Oh." Watari frowned, thought for a moment, and then offered the partners an optimistic grin. "Maybe if you drank a little more?"  
  
"Maybe." The young shinigami took another sip, doubtfully. He didn't look convinced.  
  
"What's it supposed to do?" Tsuzuki asked, settling himself comfortably into one of the chairs. "And how much sugar did you put in?"  
  
"Ah!" the taller blonde exclaimed, delighted that someone had shown interest. 003 nearly fell from her perch on the man's shoulder at his sudden forward movement. "Well, you see, bon was telling me that he doesn't like big crowds because of his empathy... so I made him something to get rid of it for a little while, so he can come to the party next week."  
  
"I still don't see how you got Chief Kanoe to agree to a party in the office, after hours." Tsuzuki frowned in thought, childishly confused. "If it was me, he never would have..."  
  
"Let's just say it's going to be a -surprise- party," Watari laughed, reaching up to take the owl from his shoulder. She peered at him curiously, still half asleep.  
  
"Oh." Violet eyes widened. An answering grin began to form. "-Oh-." Ignoring his partner's glare, Tsuzuki pushed obliviously onward. "I get it. So, what about the sugar?"  
  
"More than you put in your tea," the boy told him disdainfully. Settling the beaker back to the tray, he pushed it away, attempting to put some distance between himself and the concoction. "It's not working," he announced. "I'm not drinking any more."  
  
Watari lowered the brim of his glasses to peer into the beaker, shifting the little owl to his other hand. "Aw, bon... You didn't even drink half."  
  
"It's not working?" Tsuzuki echoed, peering at the mixture hopefully. "At all?"  
  
The young shinigami sighed. "Not even a little. I can feel both of you, and everyone in the hallway." Wide green eyes turned up toward the potion's creator. "Didn't you say that a little should be enough?"  
  
The tall blonde stroked his fingers through the bird's feathers as he spoke, considering. "The only thing I can think of is that the sugar might have neutralized it." He offered Hisoka an apologetic smile. "Sorry, bon. I'll go whip up another batch right a--"  
  
"Tsuzuki!" the boy yelped, cutting his co-worker off mid-sentence. "You -idiot-!"  
  
Two pairs of horrified eyes, one green and the other golden, turned to watch as Tsuzuki scooped the melted sugar from the bottom of the now-empty beaker, licking it from his fingers. "You were right," he agreed happily. "It -is- just like I make my tea."  
  
"Tsuzuki-san," Watari protested, "You shouldn't drink the fruits of science in place of tea!" Abruptly, his eyes took on a foxlike glint. "Feeling any effects, though?"  
  
"He isn't an empath," Hisoka pointed out acidly.  
  
The blonde shinigami sighed, deflated. "Ah, well. I suppose you're right." Returning 003 to her customary spot on his shoulder, the scientist offered a cheery wave. "Well, I'm off to make up some more! Be back soon!" And with that he was gone, whisking from the room with all the energy of a whirlwind.  
  
"Me too!" Tsuzuki announced, returning the beaker to its spot. "The chief's been hoarding pastries in the break room, and--"  
  
"Not so fast," the boy cut in, catching his partner by the hem of his coat before the man could slip from the room. "-My- half of the paperwork is done."  
  
"But... but..." Shining violet eyes turned pleading. "Hisoka... the pastries will be gone..."  
  
The young shinigami stood, fixing Tsuzuki with an appraising look. "I'll bring you back some," he offered, by way of compromise. "How's that?"  
  
"You -do- love me!" the man cheered, all ears and tail and tiny hearts. "Something with blueberries, okay? Blueberries?"  
  
Hisoka had to fight to keep the smile from his lips. "Don't push it."   
  
And with that, he was off in search of blueberry pastries.  
  
~end part one~ 


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: This got written despite the fact that I am nearly unconscious, because it planned itself out while I was working today. I love it when my muse takes initiative. *snuggles him*  
  
*ahem* But, anyway. This chapter contains *threatening music* my first attempt at looking inside Tsuzuki's head. Tell me if it sucks too bad, ne?  
  
Warnings: Yaoi. Watari's weird potions. Uhm, possible angst in later chapters.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
===============  
Outside Looking In  
===============  
Chapter 2  
===============  
  
The break room was empty-- which was not, in itself, something that surprised Hisoka terribly. After all, Tatsumi was wont to patrol the area at intervals, to make certain that everyone was occupied with something productive.   
  
Even so, the boy was mildly astonished to discover that most of the box of pastries was intact, several of the blueberry-filled ones untouched. It probably, he reflected wryly to himself, had a good deal to do with the fact that Watari had been locked in his lab the whole day and Tsuzuki hadn't yet had his pick.  
  
Frowning thoughtfully, Hisoka pulled two of the sticky sweets from the bottom of the box, biting into one as he moved to find a napkin for the other. There were several beside the coffee machine, and a moment later had the pastry safely wrapped and settled in his coat pocket.   
  
Taking another bite of his own pastry, which he'd discovered to be strawberry, the young shinigami wondered what had prompted the change from the usual semi-stale donuts. It was a welcome one, certainly, but he didn't think that the department's secretary would agree when the sweets got charged to the budget...  
  
Half-turned toward the door, Hisoka paused to regard the box one more time. They were awfully good. And presumably, Tsuzuki was working diligently on this week's paperwork. Presumably.   
  
Shaking his head, the boy gingerly fished another of the blueberry pastries from the box, wrapping it and placing it beside the first. Thoughts on his partner and mouth full of strawberry, the young shinigami turned toward the door. And would have yelped in surprise, had his mouth not been full of pastry.  
  
"Kurosaki-kun," Tatsumi greeted with a nod, utterly calm He was standing no more than a foot from the boy, the cup in his hand proclaiming him midway to the coffee machine. But that wasn't what had startled Hisoka so badly.  
  
He hadn't known the man was there until he'd turned around. The secretary had been in the room, had been physically close enough that he should have felt a presence... but even the vague sense of emotion that he could feel through Tatsumi's walls was missing. Gone.  
  
Huge green eyes widened with sudden realization.  
  
"Good morning, Tatsumi-san," Hisoka replied, tone deceptively neutral.   
  
"Indeed." The secretary fixed him with a smooth, appraising glance. Then his eyes trailed to the box of pastries on the counter nearby. One eyebrow climbed slightly higher. "Pastries?"  
  
"Mm," the young shinigami agreed, vaguely noncommittal. Moving around the older man, Hisoka made towards the door. "Well. Tsuzuki hasn't been filling out his files, so..."  
  
"I see." Calm blue eyes watched the retreating form. "Don't let me stop you."  
  
Only the pace of the boy's steps belied his excitement as he hurried from the room to tell Watari that his potion had been a success.  
  
***  
  
Paperwork, Tsuzuki was beginning to be certain, was a way for the gods to prove their superiority. Yes, shinigami were immortal. Yes, they healed. Yes, they got cherry blossoms year round. But form after form, space after space, line after line... it was enough to drive a man crazy.  
  
And he was hungry. What was taking Hisoka so long? The break room wasn't terribly far away. Maybe the boy wouldn't mind if he left to see what the matter was...   
  
Tsuzuki paused, considered. Frowned. That, he decided, was most definitely a bad idea. His partner could get awfully scary when he didn't do his share of the paperwork-- which he supposed made sense, since it was so much trouble to begin with.  
  
Words scrawled across the page, large and mostly illegible. Tsuzuki chewed on the end of his pen, considering what he'd written without really paying attention to it. His stomach was digesting itself, he was sure. Where -was- that boy?  
  
Excitement.  
  
Startled violet eyes widened slightly, peering about with curiosity.   
  
Excitement. Pride. Finished!  
  
Half-rising from the chair, Tsuzuki turned just in time to see Watari open the door, beaming. A full beaker brimmed between his hands, and his lab coat bore the signs of a recent explosion.  
  
"Guess what, bon?" the scientist enthused. "I think I found out why the first one didn't--" The words cut off mid-sentence as he realized that the boy in question wasn't in the room. "Oi, Tsuzuki. Where's bon?"  
  
"Getting pastries," the older shinigami announced, the oddity of his friend's arrival overshadowed by the topic he'd previously been lamenting. "And taking his time about it."  
  
"Pastries?" Hope. "Think there's any left?" Resting the beaker on the desk, Watari settled himself beside it. A very singed 003 peered irritably from his shoulder.  
  
"There should be," Tsuzuki told him seriously. "It would be rude for someone to have taken them all when we haven't had any." He nodded twice, to emphasize his point.  
  
"Right!" the blonde was quick to agree. "Let's go!" And with a wave of determination, he was heading abruptly for the door.  
  
"But Hisoka's supposed to be bringing--" Tsuzuki began, at exactly the same moment that Watari's startled cry of "Bon!" echoed from the doorway.  
  
"It worked." The tone was calm, but... Rising cheer. Excitement. "I couldn't feel Tatsumi, and I can't feel either of you."  
  
"You're kidding!" The taller blonde ushered the young shinigami into the room, even as the boy's partner stood to join them.  
  
"Really?" But Tsuzuki knew. "The sugar didn't change it?"   
  
"I don't think so." Relief. Satisfaction. "I don't feel anything."  
  
"Nothing at all?" The scientist sat Hisoka down on the desk, expression thoughtful. He tapped his chin with one long finger. "What about with touch? Have you tried?"  
  
"No, not yet," the boy admitted. A frightened, hesitant hope was starting to bloom. "Do you think it will work then, too?"  
  
"Only one way to see." With the flash of a smile and a shrug, Watari had seized the boy's hand and pressed it firmly to that of his partner's.  
  
Tsuzuki's mouth opened in a silent gasp, violet eyes widening with his shock.  
  
Like a rush of cold water, the emotions hit him full in the proverbial face. Anticipation. Excitement. Hope, but he wasn't really sure that he wanted that to be there, because it usually didn't last very long, and it wasn't safe to let it stay. Uncertainty, because he'd never been able to spend time with more than a few people at once before, and now--  
  
The emotion was cut off halfway, overridden by a rush of others that came up to replace them. Concern, sudden and sharp. What was the matter? Worry, unbidden, a little unwelcome. Was that for him? Fear. He thought it might have been, but the room was so far away, and getting dark with startling speed.  
  
Seconds later, Tsuzuki hit the office floor in a dead faint.  
  
~end part two~ 


	3. Chapter 3

Authors Notes: Sorry this chapter took so long. It happened like this because... Well, because I had absolutely -no- idea where to go with it. This whole story started as a "Wouldn't it be cool if...?" thought-- but the scene I had planned out isn't for a chapter or two yet, so until then I'm floundering.   
  
Let me know what you guys think, ne? Particularly: Is everyone in character? Is the plot moving along? Does the writing really suck? (I finished it too late at night to bother a read-through to check myself ^^)  
  
Warnings? Yaoi. Watari's weird potions.   
  
Enjoy!  
  
===============  
Outside Looking In  
===============  
Chapter 3  
===============  
  
"Well," a voice said, intruding its way into semi-consciousness. "I guess we're going to have to wait until he wakes up."  
  
Silence met the reply, but it was an unhappy silence. Full of reproach, and an angry sort of worry; apparently, the conclusion wasn't a satisfactory one.  
  
The voice tried again, preceded by a nervous little laugh. "C'mon, bon-- cheer up. After all, it did what it was supposed to." A slight hesitation, and a waver of uncertainty. "To you, anyway. And he's breathing normally-- and his heart rate's fine."   
  
Cautiously, Tsuzuki opened an eye, squinting against the too-bright ceiling lights. After a moment, Watari's figure took shape against the white electric glow, and he was struck by the fact that the floor was awfully high up, considering the fact that he came to the scientist's waist. Approximately two full seconds after that insight, he became aware that the floor was also somewhat softer than he remembered it. And was suddenly, fiercely glad that Hisoka wasn't privy to his thoughts-- because the boy would have called him ten kinds of idiot for not realizing that he was lying on a bed.  
  
Cracking open the other eye, Tsuzuki peered upward; a blonde scientist loomed above him, expression cautiously cheerful. "Worse comes to absolute worst," he continued optimistically, "I designed the formula to wear off in twenty-four hours."  
  
A suspicious, careful sort of hope blossomed from just outside the violet-eyed shinigami's range of vision, and he tipped his head slightly to see Hisoka perched stiffly on the edge of a chair. The boy's expression was carefully neutral. "But -will- it?"  
  
"Of course," the blonde replied easily. "I made it specifically for an individual possessing your powers, so there were some unexpected results. But even so, the formula isn't concentrated enough to last longer than a day." The wave of confidence that came with the assertion was reassuring, in a way that the man's words would never have been.  
  
Moving awkwardly, as though under a great weight, Tsuzuki pushed himself into a sitting position. He felt their surprise at the sudden motion, and offered a shaky smile, violet eyes searching. "What was that all about?"  
  
Watari narrowed his eyes, lowering his glasses to regard the other man over the rim. "Your hitting the floor?" At the uncertain nod, the blonde took a deep breath, exasperation floating into the already-cluttered mix of emotions. "Actually, I was hoping you could tell me."  
  
Two pairs of eyes, one a narrow gold, and one a wide, deep green were fixed on him, expectation thrumming through the air with every breath the man took. Blinking slowly, he realized that he -could- tell Watari what had happened. Because... well, there was nothing else that it could have been.  
  
"I can feel you both," Tsuzuki announced, simply. When confusion rose up to meet the statement, he clarified. "Feelings. Emotions." He frowned, an expression that came very near a childish pout. "Does empathy have to go somewhere when it disappears?"  
  
For a moment, Watari's shock was strong enough to blot out everything else-- and then the following excitement crashed over him with frightening force. "Really?" the scientist demanded, taking a seat on the bed. He was oblivious, Tsuzuki realized, of the fact that his emotions were so strong; the nearness made them overwhelming. "So you think you might have Hisoka's empathy? That's fantastic!"   
  
Ignoring the boy's muttered response, the taller blonde pushed away from his seat, propelling himself across the room to retrieve a clipboard. "Tell me what's different. And what made you lose consciousness." The man considered, tapping his pen against the metal at the clipboard's top. "And how you feel."  
  
With the distance that Watari had placed between them, he could feel his partner again, and knowing for once what the boy felt was strange beyond any ability of words to describe.   
  
The young shinigami's expression was purposefully disinterested, the bright green eyes not lingering too long in any one place, and particularly not on Tsuzuki. His body language was carefully relaxed, though the effort to keep from nervous tapping was beginning to wear. Outwardly, he was calm. Uncaring, even. But... there was rising alarm in Hisoka's heart, and with the feeling came a crashing realization as to why he was so afraid.  
  
Always before, his partner had known what everyone else felt, had known their hearts. He'd spent so long hiding his own that the idea of sharing it was terrifying, to say the least.  
  
"Tsuzuki?" Watari cocked his head, pen poised to record. "Let's hear it-- I need the data to go with this. Scientific process, and all."  
  
It took a minute for the violet-eyed shinigami to recall the questions, and he started a little guiltily. He hadn't been staring at his partner, had he?  
  
"Let's see," Tsuzuki started, frowning thoughtfully. If the scientist needed data, then he deserved honest answers. "Only thing different is empathy. As far as I can tell, that is. I passed out because of your experiment-- the touching one, not the potion." The man paused a moment, brow furrowing in thought. "Well, the one with the potion, too, but the part with the touching in particular."  
  
When the older shinigami remained silent for a long moment, Watari prompted him along. "And right now, you feel...?"  
  
The answer needed no consideration. "Hungry." He turned a hopeful smile to his partner, pleased beyond words at the startled wonder that he felt beginning to stem from the boy. "You got those pastries, right, Hisoka?"  
  
***  
  
Barring Watari's suggestion-- which had revolved largely around throwing the office party early, in order to allow a game of truth or dare where Tsuzuki could call the players on false truths-- they only had two options. The first was to wait out the duration of the formula, which was an alternative that put Hisoka a bit ill at ease. Twenty-four hours with a Tsuzuki that could read his every emotion was a disaster waiting to happen. The second choice, however, was even less appealing: let the scientist experiment in his lab, and hopefully come across an antidote. Side-effects unknown, of course.   
  
And so it came to be that Hisoka watched his partner warily as the man finished off the second of the blueberry pastries. They'd returned to the office when it became clear that Tsuzuki wasn't going to pass out again anytime soon, and had resumed their previous tasks. Which is to say, Hisoka was looking on with feigned agitation as the violet-eyed shinigami did everything in his power to avoid filling out the forms that cluttered their desks.  
  
"Sankyu, Hisoka," his partner proclaimed, licking pastry crumbs from long fingers. "You even remembered blueberry!"  
  
The boy couldn't quite stop the little flush of pleasure that the words brought; it was still strange, after being ignored for so long, to be thanked for such a little thing. To have any attention at all... gods dammit, and now Tsuzuki would know that.  
  
Green eyes narrowed, Hisoka pinned his partner with an accusing stare, gathering an edge to his words in order to make up for the mistake. "Empathy doesn't affect the hands," he pointed out acidly. "Usually, I don't have any trouble filling out forms."  
  
Tsuzuki wilted, his violet eyes huge and pleading. "But, Hisoka..." he attempted, eying the stacks of paper distastefully. "Watari said I should take it easy!"  
  
The boy folded his arms, looking pointedly away in order to resist the beguiling begging-puppy appeal. "We aren't on assignment," the young shinigami pointed out reasonably. "It isn't even background work-- just forms."   
  
Not for the first time since Tsuzuki had awakened, Hisoka was grateful that they didn't have a case. The boy had difficulty interacting with crowds, and he'd been an empath for his entire life; the disaster if Tsuzuki attempted to mingle in his current state threatened to be of monumental proportions. At least in the office, filing paperwork, the young shinigami felt confident that he could keep an eye out for the idiot...  
  
Tsuzuki, of course, completely overlooked the point. "You do care!" he squealed, at exactly the same moment that his partner realized how obvious his concerns must have been to the new empath. "I knew it! I knew it!"  
  
"Idiot," the boy was quick to snap, feeling his face burn. He was moving for the door before he knew why. "Just finish the work."  
  
"Eh?" The older shinigami blinked, confused and suddenly deflated. "Where are you going?"  
  
Hisoka thought about it for a short while. "To find Tatsumi," he said eventually. "I need to talk to him."  
  
"About what?" The pen was abandoned in favor of the conversation, and the boy had a sneaking suspicion that it would hold the same position when he returned.   
  
With a twist of the doorknob and a short step, the young shinigami was out and halfway into the hall. He had to fight the impulse to tell Tsuzuki that it was none of his business-- because it was. "I want to ask how to put up walls, the way he does."  
  
"Walls?" There was confusion in shining violet eyes, and Hisoka silently cursed any gods that happened to be listening. He couldn't tell whether his partner was asking an honest question, or if the innocence was an act.  
  
"To keep you out," the boy snapped in response, regretting the harshness of the words as soon as they left his mouth. But sorry was too difficult to say aloud, and by then, he was closing the door behind him and moving down the hall, in search of Tatsumi.   
  
Besides, he reflected wryly, it wasn't as though Tsuzuki couldn't feel the silent apology.  
  
~end part 3~ 


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes: See, this is what happens when I know what's supposed to be happening. It gets done scarily fast. The next chapter is, quite literally, the reason that I wrote the entire story. ^__^  
  
Warnings? Yaoi. Weird potion effects.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
===============  
Outside Looking In  
===============  
Chapter 4  
===============  
  
The knock on the door was quiet, unobtrusive. Hesitant, almost.  
  
Seated behind his desk, Tatsumi didn't raise his eyes from the papers stacked neatly before him. "Yes?" the secretary called, raising his voice just loudly enough to be heard through the wood of the door. "Who is it?"  
  
No answer came, but a moment later the door opened just wide enough for Hisoka to let himself inside. He pressed it quietly closed behind him.   
  
Sharp blue eyes lifted from their work to see what the problem was, taking one quick, appraising glance. The boy's face was set, serious, and he looked, Tatsumi thought, distinctly displeased about something.  
  
"Kurosaki-kun," he greeted, watching as the young shinigami helped himself to a seat. "You wanted to talk to me about something?"  
  
A quick nod preceded the soft voice. "About my empathy."  
  
"Oh?" The secretary had moved to retrieve his pen, intending to work through the distraction, but the boy's words had caught his full attention. "Are you having problems with it?" The man considered the problem seriously. "Perhaps Watari-san could come up with a solution."  
  
"No!" Hisoka yelped, much too quickly. "That is," he admitted with a quick blush. "I asked for Watari's help before. I don't have my empathy right now-- he was working on a potion to dampen it."   
  
Tatsumi frowned, leaned forward over the desk. "And he doesn't think he can create an antidote? I thought that he always kept notes on possible neutralizing agents."  
  
The boy's wide green eyes were peculiarly embarrassed. "That isn't the problem." He hesitated, coming as close to fidgeting as Tatsumi had ever seen him. "It's Tsuzuki," the young shinigami admitted at last.  
  
"Oh?" A very slight smile played at the corner of the man's lips. For all Hisoka pretended not to care about his partner, Tatsumi suspected that most of the distress stemmed from the fact that he couldn't feel the violet-eyed shinigami's emotions anymore. They were overwhelming even without empathy, after all; he could only imagine that their loss must be shocking.  
  
"He has it," the boy said simply, refusing to raise wide green eyes to make eye contact.  
  
Tatsumi blinked, wondering if he'd missed part of the conversation. "Excuse me?"  
  
"My empathy," the boy elaborated. "Tsuzuki has it."  
  
A long moment of silence descended. Tatsumi adjusted his glasses, a gesture of habit. "Well," he said-- but it wasn't a beginning, merely an acknowledgement.  
  
"I thought that you might be able to help me. I can never feel anything when I'm around you." Hisoka fixed him with hopeful green eyes, though the expression on his face remained closed, distant. "Can you teach me how?"  
  
The secretary regarded him with a cool blue gaze for a time, thinking about the answer. "I can try," he finally agreed. "But I think that some of it's natural."  
  
"Right." With a nod and a quick breath, the boy was ready to begin. "What should I do?"  
  
***  
  
While not normal by any stretch of the imagination, the rest of the day was bearable at least. Which is to say that the walls had kept Tsuzuki from discovering anything too embarrassing, and that half of the paperwork was finished by the time the two partners left the office. Despite the fact that they should been able to complete it with time to spare, it was good progress as far as Tsuzuki was concerned.  
  
Building his mental walls strong enough to keep someone else out, Hisoka had been startled to discover, was a draining effort. Every moment had been spent making sure that he wasn't leaking emotions, and his mood had gradually deteriorated throughout the afternoon. It only made him more irritable to consider the fact that he might not be putting enough energy into the task, and that Tsuzuki could very well know -exactly- what was bothering him so much. Needless to say, the patience that the violet-eyed shinigami displayed with the boy's fraying temper was -not- appreciated-- particularly when Hisoka thought he saw a bit too much understanding in the kindness of those eyes.  
  
By the time he kicked off his shoes and stumbled into the little house, sleep was the young shinigami's sole objective. It, at least, would smooth out the rough edges of the day, and rid him of the headache that was beginning to pound its way into his temples.  
  
Four steps brought Hisoka to the couch; upstairs was too far away, and too much effort. The boy settled himself without hesitation, sliding into an exhausted sleep moments later.  
  
***  
  
It was a deep sleep, black and dreamless-- the sort that didn't happen very often. For an instant, Hisoka hovered on the edge of consciousness, clinging tentatively to oblivion, attempting to fall back into a rest without nightmares. But the knock on the door dragged him into a reluctant sort of consciousness, and the boy opened his eyes to find that the room had darkened into night.  
  
He didn't want to get up. Not really. For a moment, reluctance and an irrational irritation warred in the boy, until he surrendered with a sigh.  
  
The headache was gone, and he was still tired enough that clinging to the anger seemed a wasted effort. And so he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, pushed himself away from the couch, and moved to answer the door.  
  
The sight that greeted the boy's eyes was one he had not been expecting.  
  
His partner stood in the doorway, clutching a pillow in both arms and looking ridiculously childish. The habitual black trench coat was hanging open, to reveal patterned pajamas. Huge violet eyes shined hopefully as the man tried on his most winning smile. "Hisoka? Can I stay here with you?"  
  
The boy closed the door in his face, ignoring Tsuzuki's startled cry. He picked his way toward the kitchen, still half-asleep, and prepared water for tea, only half-listening to the older-shinigami's pleas.  
  
"Come on, Hisoka!" came the voice that drifted through the closed door. "I'll sleep on the couch!" It waited for a response. "I won't take anything from your fridge! And, uh, I'll be quiet! I won't bug you, honest!"  
  
Setting out two cups on the counter, the boy turned back toward the front door.  
  
"Pleeaaaase?" the voice begged. "I'll make you breakfast tomorrow morning!"  
  
Hisoka jerked the door open, regarding his partner with a level stare. "You say that like it's a plus." Judging by Tsuzuki's expression, the boy got the distinct impression that, had he possessed his empathy, the gratitude that the other man was projecting would have been overwhelming.   
  
"Thank you!" the violet-eyed shinigami gushed, letting himself in and abandoning his slippers at the step. "I didn't know you'd be sleeping already, honest."   
  
Hisoka started, realizing that the lingering drowsiness must have been obvious to the new empath. And a moment later, the boy cursed silently to himself; now he had to put the walls up again. He raised them carefully, checking for chinks as Tatsumi had taught him, and was dismayed to find that they hadn't been in place for more than five seconds before the headache returned full force.  
  
The young shinigami bit back a sigh, turning toward the kitchen once more as his partner kept up the too-cheery monologue.  
  
"But... I was trying to sleep, and people kept walking by outside, and I kept feeling what they were feeling." He trotted along after the boy, pillow still in his arms. "And Watari said to find someone if the empathy started bothering me."   
  
"So you wanted to find someone -else- to be around? You really are an idiot," the boy proclaimed mildly. He considered, then added wryly: "Watari, too, if he told you that was a good idea." Retrieving the tea from it's spot, Hisoka poured some into the cups.   
  
"I didn't think you'd mind so much," Tsuzuki protested. "I was hoping you might be able to tell me how--" The older man cut off abruptly when he was presented with the tea. "Oh! Sankyu, Hisoka!"  
  
"Here's my advice," the boy told him, fixing his partner with a green-eyed stare. "Get some sleep. You don't feel it as much, then." And with that, the young shinigami turned to the stairs, taking the first two steps up.  
  
"Where are you going?" Tsuzuki protested, violet eyes begging.   
  
"To bed." Hisoka firmly ignored the kicked-puppy look that his partner shot in his direction, continuing in his path up the stairs. He sincerely hoped that the walls were strong enough that the other man didn't know how much those pleading looks affected him.   
  
~end part 4~ 


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Notes: This chapter was the hardest so far to write. Still not sure about some of the parts, and just in general about whether I -wrote- it well. Ah, well. If I put it off any longer, it would've been in danger of never getting finished. ^^  
  
Thanks to everyone, btw, that responded to tell me whether I was getting everyone in character or not. ^_^ That's -very- much appreciated.  
  
Warnings? Yaoi. Angst. Implied nonconsensual. Sap.  
  
===============  
Outside Looking In  
===============  
Chapter 5  
===============  
  
It drifted in quietly at first, like a sound might have-- a distant feeling that tickled at the back of his mind, not truly enough to alert him. It set him on edge, though, and Tsuzuki shifted without waking, brow furrowed with the beginnings of discomfort.  
  
It was the loneliness that finally forced him into consciousness: a devastating mental wail of it hung in the air and lingered, choking the man as he fought his way into a sitting position. For long time, he simply breathed, taking in gasps as he fought down the emotion that wasn't his. Beside the couch, his pillow lay forgotten on the floor.  
  
His best efforts to keep it at bay weren't working; that much became obvious when the other feelings began trickling in to join the first. Loneliness, larger than all the rest, hovered above them like a dampening cloud, but everything was frighteningly clear. Hatred, of a sick and aching sort. A gnawing dread with no real focus. Slow and quiet misery. Hunger. Pain. And so very, very lonely.  
  
With a wrench of realization, Tsuzuki knew where the feelings were coming from. For all the times that Hisoka had aided them on assignments by finding a person's emotional residue, the violet-eyed shinigami had never really understood what he meant by it. Now, it was painfully obvious; under the loneliness, under the fear, and sadness lingered a sense of Hisoka, a sense that the boy was attempting to fight his way through... and failing.  
  
Without stopping to consider the judgment behind his actions, Tsuzuki was on his feet and heading for the stairs, taking them two at a time. He ignored the shaking in his hands, opting instead to fist the fingers, digging short nails into the palms.   
  
If something had happened... If something had happened to Hisoka while he was downstairs -sleeping-...   
  
He threw open the door, staring intently into the dark room beyond. The emotions were still thick in the air, heavy and oppressive. Frighteningly raw. For a moment Tsuzuki stood breathing heavily, waiting for his eyes to adjust.   
  
After what seemed a small eternity, the man was able to pick out Hisoka's pale form among the sheets. A few quiet steps into the room revealed that the boy was unharmed, and several more brought him to his partner's side. The wide green eyes were closed, and outwardly, he was peaceful. But still, the emotions battered at the older shinigami, threatening to steal his legs from under him.  
  
He solved the problem by settling himself cautiously on the blankets, watching Hisoka as he slept. Carefully, Tsuzuki reached out to brush a strand of hand from the boy's face, ignoring the screams of protest from his newly-gained empathy. It staggered him to think that his partner was in so much pain, even as he slept.  
  
And then the contact dragged him headlong into the boy's nightmare, and he understood.  
  
***  
  
Raining. It was raining again.  
  
Did it ever stop?  
  
The storm was a cold one, chilling and biting, but at least not big. The thunder was scary when it got too loud-- shaking roars that made the child huddle in a corner and fight not to cry.  
  
~It's just a dream. Don't be afraid.~  
  
But his back still ached from the last time they'd hit him, and he was hungry, and so he cried anyway. It happened less, now; sometimes the tears were gone when he thought they should have been there. Sometimes, he felt everyone else expecting him not to cry-- after all, why should a demon feel anything at all?  
  
~I know they hurt you. I know you feel it.~  
  
And he did. Not just abandoned and afraid, but the things that they felt. Hatred, strong enough to be nauseating, and all for him. It was buried there, deep down in their hearts, so it had to be true.  
  
~It's just a dream. Hisoka, don't listen.~  
  
He couldn't get away from it. It had always been there, thick and sharp, something to hurt him with. And if they said he didn't deserve any better, and they believed he didn't deserve any better... then maybe he didn't.  
  
~No. Don't think that. Don't listen to them.~  
  
He couldn't even tell anymore, where they stopped and he started. Their hatred was his, and every breath made the loathing stronger.   
  
So... maybe if he just stopped breathing. Maybe if he just stopped living. They would like that idea.  
  
~Who cares what they want? They aren't here anymore-- they can't hurt you. You're dreaming!~  
  
But it was so real, everything that they gave him. Easier not to fight to keep the emotions out, easier to accept that he was the demon they made him-- after all, everyone else had given up on him.  
  
~Not me. I'll never leave you. I'll never give up.~  
  
When had it stopped raining?  
  
Strange, that he could see the moon from his little window; it was wide and overbearing, a sick shade of red. The storm clouds still in sky couldn't dampen the blood-glow, and the walls did even less. Nothing at all. Because even as the child watched, the cold grey of the basement faded away with the rain, left him standing alone and in the open.  
  
His eyes moved on their own, wide and green, full of a sick certainty for what he knew he would see. The woman's pain was thrumming through him, after all-- and her terror.  
  
~Hisoka, wake up. Please wake up.~  
  
Between the blood and the moon, the man's coat should have been stained red. But it was white, and his hair was silver, and he glowed like an angel even as he brought the knife nearer. It wasn't the child's own fear that made him run-- it was the fact that he no longer felt it from the woman on the hill.  
  
Irrationally, the boy wondered if she'd been glad when the pain had stopped, if there had been a moment before she died when it hadn't hurt anymore. But then a strong hand closed around his wrist, jerking him backward and to the ground in the same motion.  
  
~Hisoka! Wake up!~  
  
It hurt.   
  
All over his chest, and his arms; down his legs and between them; everywhere the man touched him was raw and burning. And fighting didn't work, and crying didn't work, and his voice was running out of strength to scream.  
  
If only it would -stop-, if only he could get away, then he would stay still and be quiet, and let them hate him. Anything to make it stop. Anything to-  
  
"Hisoka! Wake up!"  
  
The dream broke with a great, shuddering gasp, and he was aware of the real world in fragments: arms around him, close and shaking; tangled piles of sheets and the sticky warmth of tears; electric light streaming in from the hallway, yellow and comforting.  
  
Tsuzuki's voice filtered in more slowly, background noise at first, sounding as upset as he felt. "It's okay. It's okay, it was a dream. I won't let them hurt you." The realization came slowly that the man was smoothing his hair, stroking it in an attempt to calm him.  
  
Making a small noise of distress, Hisoka tried to push him away, discovering too late that his fingers refused to unfist from his partner's pajamas. "Idiot," he choked instead. "Of c-course it was." He couldn't seem to get enough air; it was coming in uneven gasps, with little sobs in between.  
  
The reply was quiet, and warm, and disregarded the insult entirely. "You're safe here." The boy had to fight a dizzying sensation of security as Tsuzuki's arms tightened around him. "That's all over now. I could never hate you."  
  
"I don't care..." Hisoka began, only to break off as another sob strangled the words; it was a struggle to push the rest out. "...don't c-care what you think."  
  
He didn't want to look at the man. Didn't want Tsuzuki to see him cry, didn't want to be this close, didn't want anyone to know what he felt, that he felt at all. But then his partner was tipping his chin upward, the gesture shockingly gentle after the violence of the nightmare.   
  
The sincerity in the depths of the kind violet eyes was devastating. Tsuzuki had meant what he said. All of it.   
  
With a soft cry, the boy buried himself in his partner's arms again, letting the horror of the dream work its way out with the sobs that shook him. And whether the man had discovered how to project emotions or Watari's potion had worn off sooner than expected, the young shinigami found himself wrapped in waves of contentment and affection.  
  
Hisoka's last thought before he drifted into an exhausted, dreamless sleep was to hope that the violet-eyed man could feel the depths of his gratitude.  
  
~end part 5~ 


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Notes: Writing this part was much like pouring hydrogen peroxide into an open wound. You know it has to be done, and you put it off, and put it off... but that doesn't make it hurt any less. ^^  
  
Pretty much, chapter 5 was all I had in mind when I started this story, so this and the rest is coming along as I think it up. Which is often when I sit down and tell myself "Write, damn you!" and then drag my muse up out of the basement. Which is happening less frequently, because my professors seem to find it amusing to give me tests every two days or so.   
  
On the bright side, I want to thank everyone who's reviewed. This story just passed 'The Incident with the Owl', which had received the most reviews for any one story in the several years I've been posting on ff.net. You're all so good to me! *little heart*  
  
Warnings? Yaoi. Sap. Possible OOC.  
  
===============  
Outside Looking In  
===============  
Chapter 6  
===============  
  
Love was the first thing that came to Hisoka in the depths of unconsciousness, washing over him in a thick, sweet wave. Even before he was fully awake, the emotion staggered the boy, left him trembling with the sheer strength of it; the feeling was something to get lost in, something to drown in, if he wasn't careful.   
  
But it wasn't overwhelming, somehow. It wasn't pressing in, didn't make him struggle to throw off something that wasn't his own. Just as the gentle strength of the arms around him was welcome, so too was the empathic warmth that the contact brought.   
  
It was strange, to feel positive emotions directed toward him, terrifying to be able to sense their utter truth. Every preservation instinct that had developed during sixteen years of mistreatment and neglect screamed for him not to trust, that trust would only hurt him more. But after so long spent knowing only hatred, Hisoka found himself helpless to do anything more than soak in the simple pleasures that his partner's touch brought.  
  
"Hisoka?" It was the man's voice, still heavy with sleep, that brought him the rest of the way to awareness. "You're awake, right?"  
  
The young shinigami's eyes fluttered open slowly, and he struggled to keep down the blush that heated his cheeks; it was a losing battle when he discovered that Tsuzuki's face was only a few inches from his own. "What about it?" the boy demanded sharply, assuming a harsh tone in an attempt to conceal his embarrassment.  
  
"Oh, nothing." To Hisoka's utter mortification, his partner pulled him closer, snuggling him like a teddy bear. "Just wondering."  
  
"Idiot!" he hissed in response. "What do you think you're doing?!"   
  
Tsuzuki's only answer was to shift slightly, tighten the hold, and give a contented little sigh. And for some reason, the younger shinigami couldn't quite find the strength to push him away.  
  
Hisoka relaxed cautiously, by degrees, until at last the feeling of his partner's arms around him was warm again, and reassuring. It was peaceful, in a way that he'd never known the word could be used. Comforting, to be so close to another living being, and to feel so much of him. Amazing, that anyone could care about-- could love-- the boy that they'd all hated so completely.  
  
It was something that would take a little getting used to.  
  
"I've got an idea!" Tsuzuki declared abruptly, managing to shatter the sense of peace in approximately two seconds flat.  
  
"You do?" The boy gave him the most withering look that could be achieved from the comfortable position in his partner's arms. "It can't be that important, then."  
  
"Hisokaaaaa," came the childish whine, followed abruptly by pleading violet eyes and puppy ears. "That's so meeeaaaaan."  
  
"Not mean," the young shinigami corrected matter-of-factly. "Just true." A long moment passed, filled with Tsuzuki's pathetic little whimpers. "...fine. What's your idea?"  
  
"Let's go to Earth!" the man offered happily.  
  
Hisoka squirmed out of his partner's hold, pushing himself back to arms length in order to search the man's face. "You really are an idiot," he declared, after a moment's consideration. "You -know- Tatsumi-san wants that paperwork finished by today."  
  
"Exactly!' the older shinigami announced, sitting up abruptly. The sudden loss of contact ran like a shock through Hisoka's body, and he found himself suppressing the sudden urge to clutch onto the man's arm and refuse to let go.   
  
Oblivious to the effect that the action had caused in the young shinigami, Tsuzuki lifted a fist triumphantly as he stood beside the bed. "Watari moved that party of his to today-- he'll be keeping Tatsumi busy all day so that Wakaba can handle decorations without anyone interfering."  
  
Hisoka blinked, bright green eyes disbelieving. "What about the chief?"  
  
"Drunk," his partner chirped. "Yuma-chan agreed to spike the coffee machine by his office-- you know he always has at least three cups by nine."  
  
The boy's expression took on more than a hint of suspicion. "When did you find all of this out?"  
  
The violet-eyed shinigami wagged a finger and attempted to look secretive. "I have my sources."  
  
"...Idiot."  
  
"Hisoka!" came the protest. "It's a -good- plan!"  
  
Still rumpled from sleep, the boy pushed himself into a sitting position. "For you, maybe." The dry tone suggested -exactly- the sort of things that were good plans by Tsuzuki's standards.  
  
"So mean..." the man whimpered, looking very much like a plant that someone had neglected to water.  
  
A long moment passed. Two. Tsuzuki was looking more pathetically hopeful with each second that ticked by, and it didn't help that the emotions matched.  
  
"Idiot," Hisoka berated, but it was more of a resigned sigh than a word. "Don't jump to conclusions."   
  
"So we -are- going?!" the man exclaimed, surging forward to wrap him in an impulsive hug. It was over before he could protest it, and so the young shinigami saw little choice but to let it go by without comment.   
  
Hisoka pulled himself to a standing position, attempting to ignore the peculiar little glow of warmth that spending a night in Tsuzuki's arms has left inside him. Eying his partner with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, the boy shook his head. "Only if you change out of your pajamas."  
  
A flood of feeling rushed in on the boy at Tsuzuki's sudden spike of joy, and between his partner's emotions and the quiet calm that he'd found for himself, Hisoka nearly collapsed back onto the bed. His legs held, however, leaving the young shinigami only one other option in the face of so much delight: to smile.   
  
And suddenly, watching a violet-eyed, puppy-tailed man scurrying around in badly-patterned pajamas, frantic in his excitement, there was a reason to. Lips creeping upward into a tentative smile, the boy waited for his partner.  
  
***  
  
Hisoka had smiled.  
  
Even seven hours later, with the sun sinking lower as the day grew late, Tsuzuki couldn't get the image out of his mind. It had been, the older shinigami was confident, the perfect beginning to a perfect day.   
  
Munching on a stick of Pocky, the man let his own grin creep wider, the bounce in his stride speaking of both good spirits and sugar consumption.  
  
"Now what's wrong?" the boy demanded abruptly, managing somehow to sound both irritated and disinterested at the same time.  
  
But the older shinigami -had- spent a day being able to read his partner's emotions, and had been pleased to discover that Hisoka's words were much sharper than his intentions. And so he winked a violet eye, and smiled down at the boy. "Who says anything has to be wrong?"  
  
The innocent smile was a bit -too- innocent.   
  
"You're planning something," the boy declared. "I can feel it." Bright green eyes narrowed with suspicion, watching the older man carefully.  
  
"Oh, right," Tsuzuki laughed, waving off the accusation. "Nothing to worry about." Absently, he offered his partner one of the sweets still clutched in his hand. "Pocky?"  
  
"You aren't changing the subject," Hisoka insisted stubbornly. Folding slender arms over his chest, the young shinigami didn't break the glare that he'd fixed on his partner.  
  
Tsuzuki cocked his head to the side, childish smile stretching just a bit wider. When he spoke, his voice was teasing. "Only gonna tell you if you take the Pocky."  
  
A blink, and startled green eyes trailed from the man's face to the chocolate-coated sweet. "Take the...?" But the confusion was short-lived, replaced by the tell-tale signs of annoyance. "Fine. Whatever." Snatching the stick from his partner, Hisoka turned an expectant gaze to the man. "Talk."  
  
"Wellll," Tsuzuki began, drawing the word out to add suspense. "All things considered, I thought that it would be the best idea."  
  
"What would?" the boy demanded sharply, though the effect was lessened by the fact that the words were mumbled around a stick of Pocky. The glare that he shot the violet-eyed shinigami, however, more than made up for the lack of tone.  
  
Something threatening in the depths of bright green eyes made Tsuzuki abandon presentation in favor of the surprise factor. "Going to the party!" the man enthused. "After all, you've been fine on Earth all day." A sunny grin went a long way to emphasize the point.  
  
"Idiot!" Hisoka snapped, to cover up the fact that his partner was, in fact, correct. "What makes you think I'd -want- to go?"  
  
Violet eyes blinked cutely. "That's why you wanted the potion, right? So you could go?"   
  
The boy opened his mouth. Closed it, at a loss for what to say. Cursed quietly when he felt the blush creep to his cheeks.  
  
Tsuzuki, of course, took the silence as assent. "Great!" he cheered. "Let's go now-- I don't want to be late!"  
  
"Wait," Hisoka protested. "It isn't even--"  
  
But by then Tsuzuki had latched onto his arm, smiling and chattering excitedly about all the sweets that Watari had planned to bring. A moment later, they faded from view.   
  
~end part 6~ 


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Notes: Oh, look. It's... not finished yet. ^^   
  
For some reason, this story just isn't wrapping itself up. It just keeps going, and -going-... No idea how I'm gonna end this, so suggestions are welcome; I'm afraid if I keep going much longer, a plot that was nebulous to begin with is going to dissolve entirely. ^^  
  
On the plus side, this fic just hit fifty reviews. *quietly in awe* Thank you all soooo much for firstly taking the time to read, and secondly for taking the time to let me know what you think. It never would've come this far without feedback (for good or bad ^^)...  
  
Warnings? Office party. Rampant Truth or Dare. Enjoy!  
  
===============  
Outside Looking In  
===============  
Chapter 7  
===============  
  
For all outward appearances, it might have been a normal day in the halls of the JuOhCho. Except, perhaps, for the unusual noise level emanating from one room in particular, and the small brown feathers that dusted the floor.   
  
No sooner had the Nagasaki pair materialized in said hallway then they were greeted by an enthusiastic call. "Yo, Tsuzuki! Bon!" A moment later, a grinning blonde was bustling forward to return the older shinigami's cheerful wave.  
  
"Watari!" came the counter-greeting, hopeful violet eyes not wavering from the party's host. "We didn't miss the start, did we?   
  
"Ah, actually it got going a bit early," the scientist admitted. Laughing a little, nervously, the man pushed his glasses back into position. "Tatsumi's been gone since three."   
  
Tsuzuki deflated, letting out a sad little whimper. "You started without us!" he wailed. "How -could- you?"  
  
"Because you'll forget all about it as soon as you realize there's cake left," Hisoka pointed out dryly, annoyance tinged with amusement in bright green eyes.  
  
The wounded puppy expression grew infinitely more pathetic. "You don't have to be so mean," the older shinigami whined. "I mean, after this morni--"  
  
"Bon's right, you know," Watari commented, sweeping in to stop the sentence before it went too far; incredibly, he managed to appear oblivious both to Tsuzuki's words and Hisoka's startled glare. "There -is- cake left."  
  
"Ooh!" Two seconds completed the transformation from self-pitying martyr to enthusiastic party guest. "Let's go!" One hand fisted in a gesture of zeal, Tsuzuki snaked the other back to grab his partner by the wrist.   
  
Chuckling softly, Watari followed them into the main office.  
  
***  
  
It was loud.   
  
Initially, that was all Hisoka had room to think, because everyone else's feelings were pouring in, the music pounding above them all. But slowly-- very slowly-- the outside world arranged itself into some manageable sort of order, and the boy was able to move away from the support of the wall.  
  
It was not just loud, the young shinigami was startled to realize, but bright in an artificial, glaring fashion. The blinds covering the long, wide office windows had been drawn, and dark sheets hung down, blacking out the day entirely. Sunlight had been replaced with blinding, strangely positioned spotlights, and tiny colored bulbs that flickered on and off at intervals throughout the room.   
  
Blinking about the office he hardly recognized, the empath decided that Wakaba had outdone herself. In a not-necessarily-positive way.   
  
A thick, artificial fog rolled in from somewhere, the machine cleverly hidden by the party decorations. The desks had been converted into a sort of makeshift stage, draped in dark cloth and almost-tastefully bright dangles, and an entire wall was occupied by a single, long table, similarly adorned and covered with sweets of every sort. The opposite end of the room was surrounded by a cluster of small, over-stuffed chairs, most of which had remained largely overlooked. In the corner, Yuma and Saya seemed to have commandeered the stereo system; abruptly, the music came to a crashing halt, only to begin again moments later in the form of painfully loud, sugary J-pop.  
  
Taking a quick, shallow breath, Hisoka shot a furtive glance around the room, searching for his partner. But the lighting was strange, and with the glare of the nearest spotlight, he could only determine silhouettes of the people nearest the food table. Biting back a little sigh, the boy took a few cautious steps away from the door, picking his way toward the chairs.  
  
He settled himself in the one nearest the door, sinking into the over-stuffed cushions gratefully. Around him, the music picked up its tempo, and the buzz of conversation grew ever-louder as everyone struggled to be heard over pound of the bass. The whole situation was... overwhelming.  
  
Carefully, the young shinigami closed his eyes, attempting to block out some of the intrusive sensory input; even if most of the feelings were positive, crowds were something that the empath still hadn't managed to get used to. Soon, the boy had little doubt, the sensation of nausea that usually accompanied social situations would follow, and he would have to leave.  
  
It had been, Hisoka recognized with an unpleasant shock of realization, a mistake to come. A bad idea from the beginning, whether his or Tsuzuki's. And currently, the eternally pessimistic nature of his mind pointed out, his partner was nowhere to be found.  
  
Abruptly, the boy's thoughts were jarred into silence, flooding them out with someone else's emotions as a hand clutched at his wrist.  
  
Excitement.   
  
"C'mon, Hisoka!" It was Tsuzuki, carrying with him a heady rush of joy. "Truth or Dare-- Watari wants you to referee!" Simple pleasure, and then the man was pulling the young shinigami to his feet and across the office floor.  
  
The words registered a moment later, and an expression both horrified and disbelieving settled itself onto the empath's face. Leaning backward to slow Tsuzuki, the boy attempted to free his arm from the other man's grip even as he prepared to tell his partner exactly the sort of idiot who would want to use empathy for Truth or Dare.   
  
And then said idiot was looking back with laughing eyes and a friendly grin, and Hisoka's efforts died without a fight.  
  
The boy would've protested. Would have said something suitably scathing, and pushed his way from the chaos that was being called a party. But... the music would have drowned him out, anyway.  
  
And besides, they were already halfway there.  
  
***  
  
"Isn't there a penalty for lying on every turn?" Tsuzuki demanded, tone decidedly nasty. "I thought it was supposed to be -truth-."  
  
Halfway around the small circle, Terazuma bristled, half-standing. "If everyone would stop calling on me, I wouldn't have to!"  
  
"Let's not destroy the building," Watari laughed, reaching a slender hand to snag the hem of the boy's jacket and pull him back down. The gesture had become habitual; in the past half-hour, the scientist had learned to manage it without so much as setting down his drink.  
  
"But it should be one or the other," Yuma protested from her perch nearby, atop the stage. The little smile on her face spoke of something carefully planned. "He can't say truth and then not answer."  
  
Red eyes narrowed over dark markings. "You just want me to take a dare."  
  
Beside her partner, Saya regarded him with wide, innocent eyes. "Well, Hisoka-kun hasn't done anything, yet-- wouldn't it be more fun if for your turn...?"  
  
"I am -not- in the game," the young shinigami in question pointed out sharply, effectively cutting off the outraged protests from both his partner and Terazuma. "Which means that I'm not taking part. At -all-."  
  
"Bon's right," Watari shrugged, and went to take another sip of sake. It was, he discovered, quite empty. "Referee's exempt."  
  
"But if it was Hajime-chan's dare, then he wouldn't be -involved-, really." Wakaba's camera was balanced neatly on her knees, and her eyes shone hopefully. "He'd just be... well, a prop."  
  
"What the hell?!" Terazuma exploded. "If you think I'm going to get -near- him, then you're out of your mind! Why would I take a dare with you perve--"  
  
"Then answer the question, Hajime--chan-," Tsuzuki smiled unpleasantly. "Or we get to hear what Hisoka has to say."  
  
Eyes flashing, Terazuma leapt from his seat on the floor, only to be returned to the spot by the free hand of a half-drunken blonde scientist. Flushed with embarrassment, he shook his head emphatically, almost violently. "That question shouldn't even -count-," he growled. "Hypotheticals shouldn't -count-!"  
  
"It's not a hard question," Yuma pointed out, smugly. "Just answer supposing that you didn't transform: If you -could- kiss Wakaba, would you?"  
  
"That's none of your busi--"  
  
Very suddenly, the room flooded with light.   
  
Not spotlights, or the tiny colored lights that made up the decorations, but yellow electric light, pouring in from the hallway. Shielding their eyes, the shinigami clustered in the office looked up to see Tatsumi's silhouette in the doorway. The man was frazzled; that much was easy to tell. His hair was awry, glasses crooked, and one hand was closed around a content, fluffy little owl.  
  
"Watari-san," the secretary intoned, voice sounding decidedly dangerous. "I suspect that you can explain all of this?"  
  
~end part 7~ 


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Notes: The longest part, to date. And also, I believe, the longest in coming. Sorry about the time between chapters-- my work schedule just got juggled around, and I'm trying to keep my old hours, regardless. As a result, my body has been like "Oi, teme! What the hell do you think -you're- doing?" So... yeah. This was written while I was sick and tired. Excuse it. ^^  
  
Incidentally, if all goes as planned, the next chapter should be the last. This has gone on far longer than planned, already; I'd really like to know if the plot wandered too far, and particularly the length and whether it worked, when all is said and done. ^_^  
  
Other that that... enjoy!  
  
Warnings? Yaoi. Alcohol. Very possibly OOC.  
  
===============  
Outside Looking In  
===============  
Chapter 8  
===============  
  
"Watari-san." The name was an accusation, low and composed, but somehow perfectly audible over the still semi-deafening music. "I suspect that you can explain all of this?"  
  
And for fully thirty seconds, there was frightened silence, the thump of the bass, and the desperate tumbling of the scientist's drunken thoughts as he struggled to find a presentable answer.  
  
When it seemed obvious that a response wasn't immediately forthcoming, Tatsumi narrowed sharp blue eyes to take in the gathered workers. "I found your owl," he bit out evenly, pronouncing each word with terrifying calm. As though to prove the point, he lifted a content-- albeit somewhat ruffled-- little owl in one hand. The next sentence might have been an observation, if not for the murderous glint in the man's eye. "And the hallway is covered in feathers."  
  
"Ah..." Watari groped for an appropriate response. "Thanks...?"  
  
"So are most of the offices." An unpleasant smile tugged at the secretary's lips. "And the cafeteria. -And---" Here he took a few threatening steps into the room, cutting off the protest that the scientist had been forming. "-And- the front walk."  
  
Moving with uncharacteristic caution, Wakaba leaned over to the Nagasaki pair, hiding her smile behind a slender hand. "Watari-san asked him to find 003-chan," she whispered, laughter evident in her voice. "After he 'dropped' a cloning potion on her." Two sets of eyes, one green and one violet, turned identical horrified expressions on the girl. "And since nobody could work with so many owls flapping around, anyway..."  
  
A moment of silence passed before the older of the two shinigami broke into startled laughter. In the face of Tatsumi's wrath, the sound hung echoingly in the darkened office, a death knell.  
  
"Tsuzuki." The man's tone said all that needed to be said of every possible threat ever issued. "May I ask what you find so amusing?"  
  
A disarmingly innocent grin met the secretary head-on, wide violet eyes full of the cheer possessed only by the mostly drunk. And Tsuzuki. Or, in this case, both.   
  
"You can always vacuum up feathers," the man offered with a happy shrug. "And you found 003, right?" He pressed on in the face of Tatsumi's heavy glare and the disbelief of the rest of the room. "So what's there to be mad about?"  
  
Somehow, the secretary managed to look scarier. "There is a fog machine somewhere in this office," he declared. The way he spoke the statement made it perfectly clear that he thought it more than explanation enough.  
  
"Aa," Watari agreed readily, seemingly having collected his wits enough to offer a full sentence. "Doesn't it go well with the lights?"  
  
"That," Tatsumi ground out, "Is beside the point."  
  
And suddenly, Wakaba was on her feet, hands on hips, ignoring Terazuma's frantic motions for her to stay out of it.   
  
"No, it isn't!" the girl announced. "It's -exactly- the point. All this is here already--" One hand flicked toward the office; the sheets, the bangles, the lights and fog and still-pounding music. "--So why move it before we're done?" Putting on her best Tatsumi-face, she raised a finger in mock-lecture. "If it's a waste of time and energy, it's counter-productive!"  
  
Sighing softly from halfway around the circle, her partner raised angled red eyes with a resigned look. "It -would- make more sense to clean up later tonight," he offered. "Better than moving it somewhere else now-- we're already started."  
  
"Well." Adjusting his glasses, Tatsumi peered into the darkened room. "Is that a consensus? Too late now?" His gaze trailed from face to face, expression hard, until at last he reached Hisoka; the boy was pale but alert, the usual slight frown conspicuously absent from face.   
  
The secretary arched an eyebrow, expression softening in surprise. "Kurosaki-kun? Am I to understand that you're going along with this?"  
  
The young shinigami flinched away from narrowed blue eyes, not looking up to meet the man's gaze. Hisoka's words, when he spoke, were an embarrassed mumble, though the darkness hid his blush. "That idiot swore up and down that no one could play without a referee."  
  
"...I see." For a long moment, Tatsumi stood unmoving in the doorway, watching the scene before him. Comfortable in the warmth of his grip, 003 cooed softly.   
  
"All right." The secretary conceded, tugging his jacket into a more presentable state. "But I want you all to be at work tomorrow morning with enough time to clean up after yourselves." He paused to consider. "And make up for the hour lost today. Understood?"  
  
The collective victory cheer was answer enough.   
  
***  
  
Taking down the decorations, Hisoka thought sourly, wouldn't be a problem. In the early morning hours, most of them had managed to find their way to the floor, where they lay with a fair number of empty bottles and several of his semi-conscious co-workers.  
  
The boy wasn't sure exactly when the party had gotten out of control, but he was fairly certain that it had been a downward spiral after Watari got dared to find the department's secretary and make him join the game. The scientist had managed it, though the young shinigami couldn't imagine how he'd convinced the man. And shortly thereafter, everyone had discovered exactly how vindictive Tatsumi could be.  
  
That had been early on, though, and it had been time to leave hours ago; the only movement in the room came from Wakaba, creeping about the remains of the party to take blackmail pictures. She would, the boy suspected, get a hefty favor from Tatsumi in return for the shot that she was currently setting up. Though innocent enough, Hisoka didn't think that the secretary would appreciate being caught using Watari's lab coat as a blanket-- to say nothing of the fact that 003 was nesting comfortably in the folds of his jacket.  
  
Ignoring the unconscious man's plight to pick his way across the decorations littering the floor, the young shinigami found his partner propped against the stage. Expressive violet eyes were strangely distant, the look on Tsuzuki's face not at all the stupid grin that had been present for most for the night.  
  
"Come on," the empath commanded shortly. "Get up." As though to emphasize the point, he nudged Tsuzuki with his toe.  
  
"Yuma-chan finally let go...?" the older shinigami asked, letting his head fall back to look up at his partner. The man's hair was disheveled, eyes slightly unfocused; nausea was prevalent in the feelings that Hisoka was receiving.   
  
He was very, very drunk.  
  
A curt nod was the only answer that the boy was willing to offer-- he didn't want to admit that he hadn't been able to pry the more enthusiastic of the Hokkaido pair free until after she'd passed out.  
  
"Are we leaving...?" Already, the man was groping for a handhold on the stage, pulling himself into a shaky standing position.  
  
"I am." The young shinigami fixed him with a pointed look before turning toward the door, listening with one ear to be certain that his partner was behind him.  
  
"So mean," Tsuzuki whimpered, moving to follow the boy from the room. But a single step nearly toppled him to the floor, and he was left clinging to the stage with a sick expression. "Hisokaaa," the man whined, violet eyes huge and pleading. "I don't feel very good..."  
  
Turning back, the boy took in a truly pathetic picture: rumpled and wincing, Tsuzuki leaned against the stage for support, one hand to his head.  
  
"...Idiot," Hisoka sighed. And because there was nothing else -to- do, he took his partner by the arm, letting the man use him for support.  
  
***  
  
"Where're we goin?" Tsuzuki demanded abruptly, attempting to stop walking. His legs tripped over one another, though, and he was left swaying for a moment, unbalanced nearly to the point of collapse.  
  
"To your apartment," the boy informed him, taking his partner by the arm once more. When a firm tug didn't serve to start them moving again, green eyes glanced back in a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. "Now what?"  
  
"Don't wanna." It was a childish pout, insistent and endearing all at the same time. "Your house is closer." And, pulling his arm from the boy's hold, Tsuzuki turned to walk the other way.  
  
Fighting desperately against the blush that burned across his face, Hisoka jerked the man to a stop once more. "Idiot!" he snapped. "It's -my- house!"  
  
Candid violet eyes turned to meet a flustered green gaze. "So?"  
  
Painfully aware of the fact that his flushed cheeks would be obvious even in the pale moonlight, the young shinigami shook his head emphatically. "That means that -I- sleep there, and -you- don't." Snatching at the sleeve of Tsuzuki's coat, the boy attempted to lead him toward the apartment once more.   
  
"But I slept there -last- night," the man pointed out, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his partner was blushing several shades of red. "And you didn't seem to mind then."  
  
"Well, this is now!" Hisoka snapped. Tightening the grip on the fabric of his partner's coat, the boy turned away, intending to drag the older shinigami after him.  
  
"But Hisokaa." It was a whimper, quiet and piteous. "I don't wanna be alone-- I feel sick."  
  
Turning to meet the man's gaze was a mistake.   
  
Huge violet eyes were desperately imploring, the expression one of wounded abandonment. In the face of his partner's pleading, all protests crumbled.  
  
"...fine," the boy conceded. "But you're sleeping on the couch." Irritated green eyes flashed over red-flushed cheeks. "And don't even -think- of opening the fridge."  
  
"You -do- love me," Tsuzuki mumbled happily, using his partner's grip as an excuse to snuggle the boy's arm.  
  
Hisoka pretended not to hear him.  
  
~end part 8~ 


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Notes: The last part. Finally.  
  
I would love to know what everyone thinks of a.) the story length b.) the plot c.) the last conversation and d.) the ending. Or any one of the above mentioned. ^_^  
  
Thank you all for reading and reviewing; like I said before, this has gone far beyond anything I've written, in number of reviewss. Thanks so much for sticking with me-- I hope the end meets up to everyone's expectations. ^^  
  
Warnings? Possible OOC. Yaoi. Sap. Sap. More sap. Lots of it-- run!  
  
===============  
Outside Looking In  
===============  
Chapter 9  
===============  
  
Half-open green eyes watched the shadows on the ceiling, stared unseeing at the dark stretches that shifted with the subtle changes of the night.   
  
It didn't matter that sleep had yet to come; the boy was in a comfortable state of semi-consciousness, dreamless but resting. And if his eyelids were gradually beginning to slip closed for longer and longer amounts of time, then the young shinigami consoled himself that it was only because dawn was creeping nearer.  
  
It was a battle that Hisoka fought every night, alone in his room-- but tonight there was one more reason not to let himself fall into nightmares.  
  
Tsuzuki. For some reason, the name wouldn't leave his mind; even on the edge of sleep, it haunted his thoughts, relentless.  
  
He could have reached out and touched the older man, had he so desired. Could have extended his empathy, and taken comfort from the fact that he was so near; could have shared in the dead sleep that too much alcohol always brought to his partner.   
  
But the man had seen too much already. He knew the depths of their hatred, understood how completely Muraki had ruined him. And yet... somehow, nothing had changed.  
  
Hisoka wasn't entirely sure why, but the force of that thought brought a strange, burning sensation to the corners of his eyes. Which was stupid, really. Why should it bother him that--  
  
A dull throb of pain invaded his thoughts, not an abrupt sensation, but one that had been nagging at the edge of his consciousness, only now realized. And a moment later, warm arms slid around him, a rumpled head pressing itself against his back.   
  
Green eyes flying wide, Hisoka half-twisted in the loose grasp, turning to stare into a half-lidded violet gaze and a sleepy grin.  
  
"Tsu-Tsuzuki, you idiot," the boy yelped. "What are you -doing-?"  
  
"Going back to sleep," his partner mumbled, tightening the hold and snuggling the rest of the way under the covers.  
  
Attempting to pry insistent arms out from around him, the young shinigami squirmed under the covers. "You're drunk," he declared angrily, fixing Tsuzuki with the most withering glare he could muster. It was not encouraging to note that the man had already closed his eyes.  
  
"Am not," came the quiet response, muffled by the fact that the speaker's mouth was pressed into the warm folds of his partner's pajamas. "Just sleepy."  
  
"What's wrong with the couch?" Hisoka demanded, struggling again to free himself from the hold of his partner's arms. "You said before--"  
  
A single violet eye opened to watch him imploringly. "Quieter?" the man suggested, hopeful.  
  
The plea for silence clicked into place along with the dull pain. "Not drunk, then," the boy snapped. "Hung over." Viciously, he raised the volume of his voice, leaning closer to ask the next question directly in his partner's ear. "But what the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
Tsuzuki cringed obligingly in response. "Hisokaa, don't be so mean." An irresistibly pleading set of violet eyes crept upward to accuse the boy. "The couch was cold-- you don't have any blankets downstairs.  
  
The young shinigami thought for a moment, raking his memory in an attempt to prove his partner wrong. "Oh," he managed instead, when he realized that it was true.   
  
Seemingly assured that the boy wouldn't try to free himself anytime soon, Tsuzuki sighed happily, pulling him in closer.   
  
For a long moment, Hisoka lay unmoving, staring down at the mop of chocolate brown hair that lay comfortably against his chest. Now was the time, the young shinigami told himself, where he ought to make it clear to his partner that carrying blankets down a flight of stairs takes very little effort. That said effort would be infinitely preferable to having a hung-over idiot clutching him like a teddy bear under the covers.   
  
But... the arms wrapped loosely around his torso were warm, and the feeling of Tsuzuki's steady breathing was comforting. Contentment and drowsy affection were thick and enfolding, almost drowning out the soft throb of the man's headache.   
  
It was strange, the boy reflected as he relaxed into his partner's embrace; usually the older shinigami slept for half of the following day after he'd been drinking, and the hangover was enough to keep the empath safely out of range for several hours when he awoke. Stranger still, Hisoka realized as he searched the night's memories, was the fact that he couldn't recall the man drinking anything after the game of Truth or Dare had come to a close.   
  
A suspicious little frown beginning to form on his face, Hisoka turned a questioning gaze toward the man still clinging to him loosely-- only to start in surprise when he found a pair of violet eyes turned up toward him, expectant and waiting.  
  
What?" the boy demanded, uncomfortably aware of the closeness of his partner's body. To counteract the flush burning its way across his face, Hisoka fixed the man with a level glare. "I thought you wanted to sleep."  
  
Tsuzuki stared up at him with wide, guileless eyes. "Not tired anymore."  
  
Abruptly, the young shinigami took to thrashing in his partner's grip once more. "Idiot!" he declared, face a startling shade of crimson. "Then what the hell are you   
doing--"  
  
It was the tone that sliced neatly through the violent actions, left him panting but still against the older man's chest. Because rather abruptly, Tsuzuki sounded very serious, and very sober.  
  
"Being with you." Gentle fingers reached upward to stroke Hisoka's cheek, a caress that sent tendrils of love and caring shivering through his entire body. And somehow, when the violet-eyed shinigami bent his head to press a kiss to the boy's lips, it didn't come as a surprise.  
  
It was sweeter than the empath had ever known a touch could be. Always before, there had been the intent to hurt, a lingering disgust that clawed its way through him. But joy was burning, deep and bright, and contentment was a warmth that he couldn't bring himself to push away.  
  
And throughout it all... the same love that glowed in a pair of kind violet eyes.   
The sensations, Hisoka was horrified to discover, were too much to bear; when a soft hand reached to touch his face once more, the fingers came away wet with tears.  
  
"Last night, I came here because I didn't know what to do," Tsuzuki whispered, tone low and trembling. "Watari said that I might have problems with the potion, but I didn't expect... I didn't expect..." The older shinigami took a breath, tipped his partner's chin upward so that a pair of green eyes could see the sincerity in his expression. "I couldn't tell what was me anymore," he admitted quietly. "But then I thought that, if I was here, then it wouldn't matter. Because I could feel you, instead."  
  
"...idiot," Hisoka admonished softly. Tears still stood, firmly ignored, in wide, emerald eyes. "That doesn't make any sense at all."  
  
But the older shinigami was not to be deterred; disregarding the interruption, he pushed onward, seemingly desperate to finish the confession. "And then I realized it," the man acknowledged, tone unusually subdued. "You never come to see me, and you never ask anyone to keep you company. Every night, you're here by yourself. Like I was." A pair of wounded violet eyes fixed the boy with a pathetically insistent gaze. "But... you don't want to be. You dreamt it, and you wanted someone to--"  
  
"Don't," the young shinigami begged. "It isn't important. It was just a dream, and--"  
  
"No." Carefully, Tsuzuki reached a hand to brush a strand of hair from his partner's face, unconsciously mirroring the motion that had pulled him into the boy's dream. "It wasn't just a dream. It's what you want." With a tender smile, the man leaned down to press a kiss into rumpled blonde locks. "And so I'm going to stay here, and be with you."  
  
The silence that followed was anything but empty. Hisoka's thoughts tumbled together, fighting to make sense of what his partner was offering-- and though his mind was insisting that he had to be wrong, that it couldn't be what he was hoping for, Tsuzuki's feelings were flooding in, all warmth and comfort and love.  
  
In the end, it wasn't much of a decision. The boy had gone so long, with so little, that he couldn't help but reach for everything he'd been denied in life.  
  
Tentatively, Hisoka tightened his hold, pressing himself against his partner's warmth as he sought the man's lips. The kiss was warm and gentle, deeper than before and more desperate; in a way, it was everything that the boy couldn't find the strength to put into words. And when Tsuzuki pulled him closer, reaching one hand up to stroke through his hair, the young shinigami knew that he didn't have to explain.  
  
They broke apart too quickly, leaving the room full of early morning silence and quiet gasps. It was a spell of sorts; neither shinigami spoke, and neither needed to. In the darkness of the room, the shadowed depths of their eyes said all that needed saying.   
  
But a question was building in the boy's mind, looming unclear and unanswerable, and only one person could tell him what he needed to know.  
  
"I..." Hisoka began, only to subside when the word choked in his throat. "We..." And that made it even worse; for some reason, the idea of the two of them together brought a burning sensation to his eyes. "We... What... do we do, now?"  
  
"Sleep." A very puppyish grin met him from under a ruffled mop of chocolate hair. "Party decorations tomorrow morning-- remember?  
  
A pair of wide green eyes blinked, startled. The night and its adventures seemed ages away. "Oh. Right."  
  
"And tomorrow night," Tsuzuki told the boy contently, snuggling closer, "We can pick up where we left off. Or the night after that. Or after that." Once more, the words were muffled by several layers of covers, and the folds of Hisoka's pajamas. "Cause I'm not leaving you alone anymore."  
  
The seconds crept slowly by as wide green eyes stared down, disbelief and pleasure warring in their depths. And then, very slowly, the boy relaxed into Tsuzuki's hold. "Don't be stupid," he told his partner, affectionately.   
  
And then, warm and comfortable, Hisoka settled down to sleep.  
  
~owari~ 


End file.
